


keep the margin notes to a minimum

by lobsterisk



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Self Confidence Issues, but it gets better!!, can i tag that?? i tried to do a character study and YOU tell me if i succeeded reader, just a bunch of bad things all around, really low self-esteem coming from Toko's end but what did you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobsterisk/pseuds/lobsterisk
Summary: Toko Fukawa keeps a secret diary. If only Syo could compromise.
Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Naegi Komaru
Comments: 25
Kudos: 96





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> hello! it has been a while! now we are here trying to contribute to the tokomaru week 2021!  
> haven't posted for YEARS and I really hope I don't ruin the pairing's tag with mediocrity  
> but I have been writing and revising this fic for so long I just cannot NOT post it  
> I tried being as respectful as possible when writing the details of Toko and Syo being a system, butas someone who does not have DID I might have commited some mistakes, and if so I apologize and promise to work on my skills to fix things up and make them better  
> also, if more tws are needed and more tags should be added, please do not refrain from telling me  
> I really hope you guys enjoy it!!  
> PS the additional tags are not to be taken lightly; seriously, if self loathing and Syo being an asshole to Toko are things that may compromise your enjoyment of this fanfic I really do not recommend following through

Toko kept a secret diary. She figured sandwiching it between multiple inconspicuous novels on her study table would be enough for it to stay hidden, and as her collection of printed literature only grew bigger and bigger by the day, at some point even Toko herself had some trouble finding it between old volumes snatched from the ancient bookshop five minutes away from her house. The journal, as Toko called it, helped her keep her mind clear and her trembling fingers busy, as she scribbled in elegant calligraphy short stories that would come to her mind late at night.

When Syo came along, the diary soon became the only thing that kept her sense of time in check. Whenever she woke up mid-afternoon with her skirt covered in dirt and one scissor on each hand Toko could at least pinpoint what she was doing the last time she had control over their shared body. Toko did not expect Syo to be kind enough to update the diary, and at some extent she would rather be left uninformed of what Syo was up to during her time fronting. It takes a lot of willpower to convince oneself that whatever made her clothes so dirty was mud. Toko did not want anymore confirmation that the same hands she used to delicately touch the pages of worn out books were also responsible for the atrocities being covered on the news. But it seemed like no cleaning soap would ever be strong enough to make her fingers feel clean.

\-----------

As she grew older, the fleeting thoughts condensed in a few words being written down on the diary became full-fledged drafts for novels. More complicated and refined kanji replaced the once timid hiragana, and the innocent fairytale princes of gentle words were now raw depictions of what one of Toko’s mothers would describe as "what I should have settled in for". The wishful thinking of someone who would take her away to a better reality now featured men of both physical and mental prowess, and if the male protagonists of her stories lacked any sort of sensibilities that would make them less of an aggressor, she could not understand how someone could feel attracted to a weak person incapable of pointing out their significant other's flaws. And, to be quite honest, the romance in her book was an afterthought; her initial drafts of her first published book narrated the hopeful story of a troubled woman who steals a fisherman's boat and sails away to find freedom and escape her terrible life with her family.

The idea to actually publish the novel came with Syo's chicken scratch notes on the margins of their shared journal. "Never have I ever read something so boring, Gloomy. Care to spice it up a bit? Insert some diiiirty scenes? Don't leave me hanging here! You want me to behave and you don't even bother trying to leave me some entertaining literature!"

Toko used a smaller space in the same margin to scribble an answer. "Well, idiot! If you are so good, why don't you do it yourself?"

The next time Toko fronted, there was a notebook page clipped to where she had been keeping her drafts. Covering some of the obscenity described in rich prose similar to her own, Toko found a post-it glued at the end of the paper. "You're welcome, Gloomy. Next time you don't know how to find inspiration, talk to Mom #2. She doesn't hold aaaaanything back."

And so Toko did. After her first novel became a surprise bestseller, of course. Toko did not understand the appeal her readers saw on the coarse, silent man that eventually married the heroine. But she understood the appeal of a boat. And, some weeks later, after the first paycheck came over to her house, heavy on her head with its loaded numbers, she understood the appeal of appealing to an audience. Toko would not complain about excelling at a profitable venue of escapism.

And, well. Being a romantic at heart, it did not take much for Toko to bleed out some of her own fantasies on the pages of her now very anticipated novels.

\-----------

From then on, the diary entries became more and more erratic, mixing up drafts, sidenotes, daily updates, news about the life both Toko and (very rarely) Syo shared and did not share at all. Toko tried her best to keep the dates organized, the events linear and the thoughts rational; the stream of consciousness that inhabited her blog, still recently created and seldom updated, would not be found between the entries of her more personal, closed to the public journal.

Not long after two whole days of complete blackout and zero updates on what happened in her absence Toko came to terms that Syo was never going to compromise. She would rather leave Toko anxiously wasting her time and brainpower overthinking every interaction as if she was the only one being left out of a joke, tiptoing around conversations regarding certain events to subtly try to find out what "we talked about yesterday, I forgot"; and, as if that was not enough, making Toko (still very much a child at this point) utterly terrible at smalltalk and ruining any chances of actual conversations, being weighed down by the insecurities of someone who would constantly mistrust any little sign of secrecy behind the smallest dialogue piece. Toko was aware of how inadequate she was; there was not need to give her further confirmation by not being open to what Syo had said to them.

Vaguely aware of what her family might think of her writing, Toko had always kept her novels close to her heart and far away from prying eyes. She was not old enough to fully understand the concept of "neglect" when she received permission to continue to publish her stories, as all her father had to say was "I don't care what you are writing about as long as the money keeps coming in". It wasn't unexpected, coming from him. She just lamented she had spent so much time worrying about being found out when there was going to be no reaction from him whatsoever. That was just how things worked in her domestic life.

One of her mothers actually took the time to read her first book. She knew as soon as she noticed how the slightest trace of disappointment painted her expression sour when she talked, how she would mutter a passing comment on how what Toko was writing and publishing were stories of strong sexual content. But, taking from the way she nodded from her chair and gave Toko back the copy she had been reading, nothing else was going to be said on the matter.

That was just how things worked at the Fuwaka residence. The non existent conversations plagued the household with bitter resentment, mistrust, each member of the family feeling nothing but repulse for one another. But, sometimes, the quiet spite would taste better than the loud hatred. If you wanted explosions and war, you could just come over late at night, when Toko's dad deemed acceptable to have his hard liquor, when Toko's mothers cried while being yelled at, and when Toko would lock herself in her room and almost maniacally write down whatever novel she had in mind at the time. More usually than never, it would be about silent nights and sober heroes. It would prove itself to be the subject of many women’s fantasies, if the numbers in Toko’s family’s bank account could be taken as source; or, at very least, it would awaken in her readers the same horrified addiction to the gruesome one would have to have to actually stand Toko’s company. That’s what she had learned as she isolated herself from the rest of the people in her social vicinities, occupying herself with maintaining the title prodigy and prolific author from the ripe age of ten. Toko would rather spend her time with the familiarity and certainty of prose than the company of individuals who she was sure were incredibly judgemental of her but not mindful enough to let her know. Syo from time to time would make try to stir things up, asking her through the journal if she was aware how much everyone was probably talking about whatever Syo did in Toko’s absence, how it didn’t take much for Syo to ruin Toko’s already fragile public image with some terribly cruel attitudes that Toko would never have the chance to be informed about. Toko would sometimes ignore the provoking chicken scratch written down so forcefully that it almost tore the paper sheets apart, but more than often she could not avoid retorting with self loathing.  
“Yeah, so what? Everyone already hates me, try using your time more productively. Stop preaching to the choir.”

“You’re not fun AT ALL, Gloomy. Hate to see your face, so relentlessly resigned to your own uselessness. Keep complaining about how people hate you, and yet does not about it. Are you ever going to try being a little less of a downer? It sucks that I have to do all the self loving here.”

“We both know neither of us deserve to achieve any sort of self love.”

\-----------

Byakuya-sama was perfect, and everything Toko had ever dreamed about.

When they were first introduced - the real first time, before the Tragedy -, it took mere seconds for Byakuya to express how deeply he loathed to be in her presence. No fake camaraderie, no plastic smiles and idle conversation about what an honor it was to be in her presence. Nobody felt honored to be in Toko’s presence. Implying otherwise was an insult to her intelligence.

She could wax poetry on her straightforward words of disgust, she could paint rivers of paragraphs describing the haughtiness of his ways; Byakuya-sama was perfect and untouchable, unobtainable, the impeccable picture of a prince of great power and pride.

Toko fell in love instantly. And so did Syo, for all the wrong reasons, but their shared affections only intensified the mutual desperation for approval from one person and one person only. Toko had never loved any of the cute boys Syo landed her hands on, and it would cost them their lives in most cases. Byakuya-sama was different; the eagerness they fed off one another kept him alive, and even more confident in his arrogance. Byakuya-sama delighted in his knowledge of being the one exception for a serial killer, and toyed with venom-dripping words with regularity whenever he deemed worthy addressing Toko or Syo directly, be it during lunch, in their shared classes or in the corridors of Hope’s Peak. Toko found herself standing for hours on end at the corridors close to the dormitories, thirsting for a scrap of attention from her prince.

“You smell rancindly, Fukawa. Go take a bath.”

Her colleagues close enough to hear the insults were hellbent in giving her pity looks that went usually unnoticed; not only Byakuya-sama was thoughtful enough to not sugarcoat the reality of her personal hygiene state, he would also expose his own solidarity and worries about her by giving her advice on how to improve! She was not deserving of such kindness.

Toko would report so on her diary. Syo would only cover the margins of the page with laughter and words describing how she would like to mark his flesh with her scissors.

\-----------

When the Future Foundation brought back memories from before the tragedy, Toko first lamented the many old journals Monokuma undoubtedly burned down to ashes just to protect the illusion of it all. Her memories were blurred, and she knew Syo’s were also in no perfect state. Toko made an attempt to recover fragments of thoughts that were possibly transcripted to her lost diaries, but with Syo being of no use - “just let it go, Gloomy, do you think there was anything worth saving if Monokuma didn’t try to publish the novels himself?” -, it turned out to be fruitless. She had only incomplete thoughts to lean on, and the medications being given to them by the laboratories seemed to open doors for her alter to front even more frequently - and for longer, more scrutinous days than the usual two to ten hours every two or three days.

If the longer periods that Syo started fronting in during the Killing Game left Toko dreading the day she would wake up next to a dead Makoto Naegi or someone equally trusting and dumb enough to fall for Syo’s mechanics, the days she was left in her blackouts during the experimental treatment of the Future Foundation were equally (if not even more) distressing; Toko did not trust anyone else with their shared body, specially when she was not fronting the two-people system. Anxiously waiting to wake up having been submitted to a procedure that she did not agree to but received regardless thanks to Syo’s green light was a horrendous feeling, and while some of the other survivors tried to offer her comfort, Toko was once again reminded that none of them cared. If they did, they would admit to not completely understand what she was going through, right? Right? Why offer her fake sympathy when none else there even tried to stick around before? And Byakuya-sama, who wouldn’t even look her in the face, what would he think whenever Toko ended up crying and screaming loudly on the lab’s floor for everyone around her to see?

Toko could feel the disgusting energy of a miserable being emanating even stronger those days. She hoped Syo was satisfied with her constant paranoia. Sadly she had no way to confirm, it would take a lot of convincing for the Future Foundation to allow her to keep a diary that would not be obligatorily displayed for the whole company to see.

“Like the third arm, Gloomy? I asked for it specifically to be longer than the other two”, was the first entry coming from Syo’s side. They did not have a third arm. But Toko checked twice every time she ventured into the shower. Just to be safe.

Eventually, the experiments ended. With a breath of relief she did not expected to be capable of producing after everything she went through, Toko hoped for nothing but solitude and time to reorganize herself and her mind to fit the reality of a broken world. The wreckage outside of Hope’s Peak left no space for hope and love to bloom, and even the most optimistic corners of her brain could not produce escapisms strong enough to give her strength to go on.

It took Future Foundation’s most forceful efforts to make her compromise with their new plans, and only the blind promise of some sort approval coming from Byakuya-sama would keep Toko interested. Desperate so savage any chance she had of ever being with her prince, she wrote down on her journal, “Syo, don’t wrong me. Don’t wrong us. We need to do this right”.

“Relax, Gloomy”, came the reply a few days later. “It’s not like I really mind fucking shit up and destroying robot bears and Demons with no risk of being jailed whatsoever”.


	2. during

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Komaru Naegi makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY I said it was going to be a 2 chapters long fanfic but;;;;; I guess I overestimated myself  
> Also one thing you guys may have noticed is that this fanfiction takes a different direction from the game - maybe from both of the games tagged - but the setup I tried to keep pretty much untouched; the reason for that is that I know many tokomaru shippers haven't played the game yet so I'm trying to keep it as vague as possible in terms of what really happens in canon and what I'm adding through this work  
> also, more than never the game is trash when it comes to not being an asshole about DID and systems so what I am trying to say is make Syo a real fucking human being you cowards not just a gag and let them have some character development  
> one last thing!! I will be using neutral pronoums for Syo, and I mostly write them as someone almost exclusively attracted to guys; hope it's ok with you guys  
> furthermore!! I hope you guys are enjoying the fanfic so far!! thank you for sticking with me

Toko started hating Komaru Naegi the very first time she had laid her eyes on her.

They were supposed to be welcoming and warm and make the hostages feel safe, Aoi insisted. Whatever. It was not like they were ever going to truly care about Toko. She had had her fair share of being set aside during her eighteen years of life already, it was not like some newbies from illegal bunkers or wherever they had been kept were going to be different. She just knew she was never going to share the same reputation as her colleagues from the Future Foundation, the ethereal heroes and rescuers fighting against the apocalypse. Toko did not seek spoken confirmation that she was seen as an unhinged and disposable weapon against the greater bad, being the neighborhood crazy lady sharing a body with a serial killer. She knew what they were saying. She knew what people thought of her. 

And, as expected, as soon as the newcomers started accommodating within the ranks and bunkers of the Future Foundation, most of them made their way to somewhere far and distant from Toko Fukawa, who allegedly was “insane” and “dangerous” and “did not know how to shower properly”. She watched from afar new bonds begin to form, new faces and new names float above her head never truly making their way to her own inner circle of acquaintances. Only a few familiar people would dare to interact with her, and vicious self hatred kept any sort of hope or disappointment over negated companionship at bay. She didn’t deserve any of that, she repeated in a voice that was neither hers or Syo’s.

The unexpected factor in the equation was, of course, Komaru.

She did take a while to make herself at home, clinging to her brother - of course it was her brother, they shared the same stupid complexion and stupid, stupid faith in humanity - with the intensity of despair expected from a victim of the Tragedy. Komaru had fidgety eyes, a permanent grasp on her brother’s hand, and skinny legs that fought hard to sustain her underweighted body without breaking. And Toko hated to see it. Hated how scared she looked whenever Makoto had to be away from her, how much she needed someone to give her strength when Toko had never had someone to save her from the things that hurt her. She would rant for pages and pages in her diary about this hopeless girl that had no use being part of the Future Foundation, that she would be better dead as death would be merciful.

“Ooooh, too bad she is not my type!”, Syo replied at some point. “But I don’t know if I would get any satisfaction from killing someone you want me to. You’re not the boss of me, Gloomy!”

“I don’t think Byakuya-sama would appreciate it, either,” Toko wrote, sighing. “Seems counterproductive to start killing rescuees.”

“Now that’s the boring girl we all know and love!”

\------------

As the days passed, Komaru Naegi became even more infuriating.

If Toko thought she couldn’t get worse than she was during her first days at the Foundation, hovering over her brother like a child scared of being forgotten at the supermarket, Komaru’s less dependant and more dependable side was also irritating. She stopped following Makoto around like a baby duckling only to spend her time pestering his inner circle of friends, who not surprisingly took it well. They seemed to like her, and her impetus to make herself useful - even though it often would end up in tears and hugs and more melodramatic interactions. Komaru took really well to the idea of being now an agent, and seemed incredibly focused on protecting her brother from everything that could harm him. They loved each other, and something bitter and resentful cankered inside Toko whenever she inadvertently remembered her family. The few drafts and novel ideas that she still tried to manuscript in her journal always ended up being about miserable sibling dynamics. Feelings she was used to.

“You suck at trying to understand human emotions, Gloomy”, commented Syo, “is it that hard to understand that sometimes people can legitimately love each other?”

It was weird to hear from her alter how she was supposed to deal with day to day occurrences. Syo now barely fronted except for battling, and for special occasions - mostly comprised of reunions that may or may not feature Byakuya-sama acting extra bossy. It made sense, at least until now, as Toko guessed Syo had no particular interest in slice of life scenarios with people that were not Byakuya-sama and absolutely prohibited violent actions towards agents they couldn’t care less about. And more time fronting left Toko feeling a bit more confident on how she was being perceived, at least on a superficial level; if anyone were to hate Toko, they would hate her for herself and not her murderous self. It was easier to deal with.

But Syo was now capable of analyzing more subtle interactions too?! What was Toko supposed to do with that?!

“Are you a romantic now, Syo?”, Toko replied, baffled. “I thought you did not believe in such things.”

“I DIDN’T, Gloomy. Correct use of past tense”, came Syo’s retort, followed by onomatopoeia; “but as much as I like doing the nasty, I also like observing. And, unlike you, I’m trying to expand my horizons. Not killing for pleasure has given me more time to, I don’t know, try to see these other goofers as more than dead meat? You can learn a thing or two from understanding that not everyone feels the same way you feel. All disgusting self loathing pain and resentment towards every single person in existence, ew. People normally would rather fill up their sweet little brains with productive stuff. For these baby cutesies, it might even be love for one another.”

Never before Syo had bothered to write such a lengthy reply. Toko ripped the page from her journal and threw it in the trash without a second thought.

\-----------

Shockingly, the news came out during a private talk with Byakuya-sama. He specifically requested her to meet up with him in his quarters, and Toko even managed to take a shower for the event. The most desperate part of Toko’s brain provided her with fantasies of praise for her good job being on the field for the company - as it had been years since she even ventured imagining more salacious encounters with Byakuya-sama -, only for it to be shattered by complete apathy. 

“You work now with Komaru Naegi,” he spoke, clear as day, not even bothering to look away from his papers; “she will be partnered up with you for the time being. Keep Syo nice and well behaved. They may only kill when the situation calls for it. As anyone with brains might be able to assert, you are very prone to misjudgements, so keep in mind that Syo is not to do anything stupider than their regular misconducts.”

Byakuya-sama’s voice resonated inside her brain for a good minute before she even felt estable enough to react. “P-pardon, Byakuya-sama?”

He cleared his throat, visibly irritated. Toko shrinked into herself, ready to slap her own face if told to do so. “I said,” his voice was cold and unforgiving, “you are now Komaru Naegi’s partner. Do I need to repeat once more what I said or you finally understand this one simple information?”

Toko swallowed down her own retort. She could not summon enough optimism to convince herself Byakuya-sama was generous for repeating himself so someone as undeserving as her could absorb his words properly. Toko could only feel betrayed for being forced into a situation that she was clearly not comfortable with. She had always requested to work alone, and thus far her one desire had been being respected. An invasive thought whispered in her ear, “maybe it was Byakuya-sama’s own idea to pair up the two worst agents; maybe he just wants you both to die in battle so you won’t be a problem for the Future Foundation anymore, down with the freak and the slowpoke”.

She left his quarters without saying a word.

“Isn’t it hot how he doesn’t care about us AT ALL?”, Syo drowled on the halfway unused journal pages, being curtly updated on the exchange. “Maybe one day he will order our execution just before dinner so he saves one more meal for himself!”

Toko did not have an answer for that.

\----------

Toko’s luck hadn’t been the same ever since being admitted to Hope’s Peak Academy. Not that she had ever been lucky in the first place, but she was capable of pointing out some ups interspersed with her downs. Good things sometimes happened to her. Was it too much to ask? For some breathing space between constant disgrace?

Why did Komaru have to take an interest in her in the first place?

“I can’t take it,” she found herself confinding on Syo of all people. “She asks me how I am doing. Do I look like someone who is holding up? Do I need to look even more miserable so she will leave me alone?”

“Serves you right, Gloomy!”, Syo wrote, and Toko could hear her high pitched laughs; “can’t stand someone trying to give you attention, huh? Are you worried she is actually trying to prank you? Prank the weird girl everyone is too afraid to befriend?”

“Why else would she even waste her time talking to me?”

“She’s your partner now! For starts!” Syo drew little hearts on the margins of her message. “And you keep wasting your time avoiding human contact when you lucked out big time snatching a pretty cute girl that spends some time of her day trying to know if you have been eating or not! Do you really think in the middle of the freaking apocalypse someone would be this invested in a prank? She even saved your life in battle! Saved us! I was there to see!”

“Cute girls are the worst. They make my life hell just for their egotistical need to feel better than everybody else.”

Syo’s calligraphy became even more unintelligible. Toko knew they were vibrating while writing their own thoughts down. “C’mon, Gloomy! Do you really think someone that naive is capable of doing something so cruel? She cried because of a dead bird when I was fronting! I give you two weeks before she makes you matching friendship necklaces or something equally sappy!”

Fortunately, the friendship necklaces never came. Unfortunately, not even Syo could have predicted how obstinate Komaru could be.

\-----------

Their first missions could not be more precisely executed. Toko still resenting the decision that tied her to Komaru, she put no effort into entertaining the girl with a two sided conversation. Idle chit chat would more than often be ignored, and compliments so clearly hollow to Toko’s ears never got articulated responses.

Toko expected Komaru to give up on her after two missions or so. It was their fifth field trip and Komaru was still trying to bond.

“W-what do you want from me?” Toko finally gave up, trying to tower Komaru with her few centimeters of advantage. “A-are you waiting for me to bite it? To make me trust you so you can humiliate me in front of everyone else like you have been wanting to do?”

Komaru froze. “What?”

Toko’s lips curved in a cruel smile. “Y-yeah, I know your type! Cute, innocent girl, who’s actually a devil in disguise! You’re just waiting for the perfect chance to ruin me, right? T-thinking about how funny it is going to be when disgusting Toko Fukawa falls for your charms and gives you trust, right?”

“No, no!” Komaru shook her head, her tone alarmed; she looked… surprised. And horrified. “W-why would I do something so cruel to you! You’re so cool and capable, I…”

“That’s how the real world is, Omaru!” Toko interrupted, and cursed her trembling hands; in a futile attempt to hide it, she opted to cross her arms. “People are cruel! People do bad things to one another! And you know what? They are going to crush you!”

Oppressive silence ringed in Toko’s ears. She watched, mortified - to her own surprise -, as Komaru’s huge, sparkly eyes glistened with unshed tears.

God damn it, Toko.

“W-wait,” she felt her own legs tremble, “d-don’t…”

“I’m so sorry people have been being so mean to you, Toko!” Komaru splurted out; to Toko’s disgusting comfort, at least she was an ugly crier. “You don’t deserve it! Just because you sometimes say things that you shouldn’t say you don’t deserve to be mistreated so much! That’s just so, so…”, she sniffed, long and wet. “So wrong! I hate it!”

Toko breath in, long and hard and desperate. She wanted more than anything to take back her words. Making Komaru cry felt like a crime against humanity. She deserved to be punished as such.

“D-don’t cry!”, she uttered, coming closer to Komaru; it sounded angrier than what she was going for - whatever it was. “Y-you’re an ugly crier! And crying won’t solve any of these problems that we have to fight against! Do you think Monokumas will stop beaming lasers at you if you start sobbing?”

Komaru’s cries only became louder. They were in a safe area, but you can never be sure in Towa city. 

“I-I’m so sorry I‘ve been doing everything wrong!”, Komaru sobbed. “I don’t want to ruin your missions! Everyone keeps saying I’m slow, and…”

“L-look, listen to me here,” Toko moved her hands around as she spoke, not sure what to do with them; she had never been in this position and she absolutely loathed it. She just wanted Komaru to stop crying and fall back into their more familiar routine, with her annoying Toko with her stupid dreams about becoming a mangaka when she was younger and Toko promptly ignoring every single question Komaru made trying to get to know her better. “Y-you’re better than what people have been saying. You have been captive for years in conditions many people would not have been mentally prepared to endure for an hour. And yet here you are, doing things that out your life in danger for some stupid ideals you cannot let go. S-so. Shut up and go back to being an obstinate kid with no personal boundaries and stop crying because you look horrible doing so.”

At some point, her hands landed on Komaru’s shoulders, and to make things even more awkward both of them seemed to realize the physical contact at the same time. It felt like a sincere exchange between two… friends. Two people who cared about one another. The crying stopped almost instantly, the echo of Toko’s words still repeating itself within their shared moment. Komaru’s watery eyes travelled from side to side, taking in the grasp on her bony shoulders with as much surprise as Toko did. Long seconds passed before either of them had the courage necessary to say anything.

“Do you…” Komaru let out a hiccup before producing a tiny little smile. “Do you really think I’m cute?”

Toko let go as if her hands were burned by Komaru’s shoulder. “D-don’t get cocky! You look really wrecked when you cry!”

Komaru giggled a bit, her arms behind her back as one would do when hiding a little secret. But, Toko lamented, Syo was right. This girl would never be capable of holding on secrets meant to harm other people. She was just too stupid, too honest. “If I knew that was what would take for you to actually talk to me, I would have broken down earlier!”

Toko grunted and looked around, anywhere but Komaru. “L-let’s go, Omaru. We have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much if you made this far!! the next (and I PROMISE the last) chapter will be posted on Saturday, just so we try celebrating tokomaru week to the last minute!!  
> 


	3. after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't;;;;; expected the last chapter to be so long;;;;;; I'm so sorry  
> unless you guys think that's good!!! then that was my goal all along!!!  
> thank you for sticking with me to the very end!! hope it does not disappoint!

Objectively, things got better; subjectively, things got worse.

Encouraged by their little bonding experience, Komaru became even more hellbent on getting closer to Toko. Her compliments, no longer being read as part of a nasty plot conveyed to humiliate Toko, now only indicated that Komaru was severely misguided and unable to make fair judgment of other people. She gave her all to be heard, and would not rest until Toko told her to just shut up and do her job. This would take an even more unbelievable turn, when Komaru used this to point out just “how dedicated you are to the company, Toko! I wish I could be just as focused on my work!”.

The meals normally consumed in isolation soon became shared, Komaru making the excuse that she wanted to “make sure Toko was eating properly”. Silence was now speckled with enthusiastic questions. What’s Toko’s favorite color? (“it’s purple.”; “I knew it!”); who is Toko’s favorite writer? (“Ichiyo Higuchi.”; “never heard of her!”; “what a surprise, Omaru.”; “hey! at least I know who Takahiro Sakurai is!”; “I couldn’t care less about these people.”); Toko’s favorite movie (“I don’t watch TV.”; “oh! that’s too bad! I’m sorry you didn’t have the chance to watch Akira Kurosawa’s work! you would have liked it!”; “that’s a surprise that you actually know him, you know.”; “hey! I am a woman of culture!”; “sure you are.”).

Innocently made questions being answered, Toko could then be found learning more about Komaru - and, incidentally, Makoto - than she had ever wanted to. Komaru was not joking when she said she aspired to be a manga author when she was younger; she was so passionate about her childish comics about true love and predestined meetings that Toko could not keep up the routine of constantly belittling Komaru’s interests. She talked about mangas published years prior to the Tragedy as if it had just happened, details still fresh in her memory as if she had read them only yesterday.

“We don’t have a lot to think about when we’re being kept against our will,” she confessed, once, in a moment of self awareness. “It helps to keep your head occupied with mundane things.”

The moment of self reflection felt alien coming from this girl. Toko did not like it. “Finish your meal, Omaru,” she pinched Komaru’s forearm. “We have people to save and families to reunite.”

“Hey, that hurt!”, Komaru pouted, thankfully pulled out of her thoughts. 

Toko let out a discrete smile, packing up her dishes to be cleaned when they found a safe bunker to rest. “Wait until I tell everyone at the Foundation how you were slacking off thinking about fictional boys.”

Komaru stuck out her tongue, no bite at all; and Toko did noy understand why the idea of Komaru thinking about boys bothered her so much.

\-----------

If nothing else, Komaru Naegi was confusing.

Toko could understand why one might find it hard to not feel inadequate between so-called “ultimates”. Labels can bring up impressions and the need for comparison, but ultimately (ha!) a great part of their specialities hardly mattered in the apocalypse. Toko would never be able to actually write a decent novel under those circumstances, and in most situations Aoi’s (and therefore Yuta’s as well) swimming abilities would be useless. Detective work and old money, sure; but that was not the case for people like Toko. They had what could only be described as dead titles. Achievements conquered in a now nonexistent reality.

But, apparently, not for Komaru. 

Komaru had always been very open about her own fear of mediocrity, and put everyone studying at Hope’s Peak (especially her brother’s inner circle of friends) on a pedestal that made no sense for Toko. If she could get in, Hope’s Peak’s credibility should have been put on check long ago.

“It was all because of my serial killer skills, Gloomy! You were there just to accompany me!”, Syo wrote eons earlier; sometimes Toko believed they were right.

But that was years ago.

“No, no!” Komaru poked Toko’s forearm with her hashi. “You stop the self loathing right now! You don’t become a bestseller by being bad at writing!”

Toko pushed the hashi away from her with the back of her hands; Aoi, sitting next to Komaru, let out a snicker and went back to her conversation with her brother. “S-stop poking me! And telling lies!”

“I suspect she isn’t physically capable of lying”, Kyoko commented, quietly, from her spot at the table; she looked very intrigued by the texture of her food.

“No way! I don’t lie!” Komaru insisted, and Makoto took the hashi away from her hand as a prophylactic measure. “What? I wasn’t going to hurt her!”

“But you are being annoying!”, he said, in his most authoritative older-brother-voice; sadly it did not sound authoritative at all. “Eat your meal and stop annoying her!”

“You guys are terrible! I don’t want to hear her hating on herself this way!”

Toko dropped her eyes to her own meal, not wanting to be part of that conversation anymore. It was not the first time Komaru convinced her to join in the group for dinner, and Toko feared it would not be the last. She sighed, with the corner of her eye spotting people sitting so close to her and being so facetious about how much it meant to them that Toko joined in; it was now harder to believe they had nothing but hatred for her. She was getting soft, and it was all Komaru’s doing.

Syo was going to give her hell for that. But that’s not what Toko ended up reporting on her journal.

“How does this girl manage to be blind enough to see herself as nothing more than ‘average’?”

\----------

To be quite fair, it was all Toko’s fault for not realising things are not meant to be good for her; the hope of a better tomorrow wasn’t for her, and letting it bloom in her mind and heart was a mistake. There was no hope for her. There has never been.

Byakuya-sama was talking and talking and talking, always one to deeply appreciate the sound of his own voice. Toko for long entertained the lewdest fantasies involving his speeches, his commands, but as years passed it just became harder and harder to ignore how terrible it felt being on the receiving end of this condescending tone. Komaru’s company gave Toko the wrong idea of being someone deserving of kindness, and wrong ideas are as hard to shake off as bad habits.

And that goes for both sides.

“Don’t you agree, Toko?”, Byakuya-sama inquired, out of nowhere; she started internally dozing off for the last minute or so, bored out of her mind when he began his tired speech of liabilities and how there was no real reason for friendly bonding. It sounded like a broken record at this point, and everyone else in their group of survivors from Hope’s Peak Academy’s 78h class could not agree more. Him addressing anyone else during his monologue, however, seemed like a surprise to most present.

“E-excuse me, Byakuya-sama?”, Toko asked, and suddenly felt the eyes of everyone present on her; she thought they were just going to meet up for new instructions on the current missions, with some verbal bashing from Byakuya-sama at most.

“I said,” he sounded impatient, “that if we deem necessary to kill someone within our own team, we will not hesitate. I have instructed you months ago about doing so if strictly necessary, haven’t I?”

Toko knew he hadn't, he had said quite the contrary. To, to keep Syo well behaved when she was around other agents, and…

“So, if I ever order one of you to do some elimination, you all should proceed as such. Don’t you agree, Toko?”

Byakuya-sama moved towards her in a heartbeat, towering over Toko with crossed arms and a demanding expression. She forgot how to breath.

“Y-yes” she muttered, and tried to sound more convincing; “if you say so, then we will do it.”

“Excellent”, he turned around and returned to his position on the center of their little gathering, resuming his long speech about possible fatalities and pointing out misuses of their equipment that had been happening in the battlefield. Toko wished this interaction happened when Syo was fronting, so they would have had their chance to completely melt under so much aggressive attention. Alas, it had had to be her.

Feeling Komaru’s eyes not leaving her trembling form the whole ordeal, she wanted her braids back just so she could pull on them until she was unable to think coherent thoughts.

\-----------

Komaru had the grace to not address the meeting with Byakuya-sama for a few days, but her general behavior left Toko feeling unsure. She did not like the uncertainty in Komaru’s every move, her reticent sideway glances and the long, long periods of silence. It was not fair of Komaru to get Toko used to easy talk and the feeling of honest companionship, only to suddenly take it all away from her.

Toko tried, but in the end she did not manage to keep her mouth shut.

“Spit it out, Omaru,” she mumbled, once they were done cleaning up a room with a particularly riled up beast Monokuma. “What’s wrong? Your silence is even more infuriating than your inane talking, oh god.”

“Would you kill a person if Byakuya ordered you?”, Komaru did spit it out, and spoke hesitantly. “Would you just… kill someone?”

Toko was not expecting that question. She felt her stomach drop, and walked a few steps away from Komaru.

“... w-what?”

“When we went to that meeting, in Byakuya’s office”, she clarified, and looked even more nervous; “you said you would kill an agent if Byakuya told you to. Would you really…? Kill someone just because he told you to do that?”

This conversation did not feel real. Toko was sure she was just trapped in a specially terrible nightmare. It had been so long since… since…

“I would,” she blurted out, and while she couldn’t say she was surprised by her answer (it was what she agreed to, what she was expected to say), Toko could not believe how untrue that statement felt.

“Would you…”, Komaru paused; some tears came out; “... kill me?”

Seconds passed.

Komaru ran away before getting an answer.

Her last words were muttered so mumbly that Toko only knew what they meant because she had heard them so, so many times before.

“That’s why you have no friends, Toko!”

That night, Toko slept underneath a concrete pipe and begged for Syo to take over for the rest of their shared body’s natural life.

\-----------

The next time they met, it was in a bunker prepared for agents on field trips; it was in the middle of nowhere, but at least it had electricity and clean sheets on the beds. Komaru had been waiting for Toko at its entrance for god knows how long, her expression tired completed with droopy, sleepless eyes. Toko opened up the bunker’s steel door in silence, not a glance spared to Komaru. She did not feel any readier to deal with the situation than she did last night before going through a few hours of sleep.

As soon as they entered the bunker, Komaru let out a relieved sigh and dropped her backpack to the floor on her way to one of the individual beds. Her hair stuck to all directions when she threw herself into one soft pillow, her ahoge pathetically limp. She did not move for what felt like hours, and Toko risked saying she had fallen asleep.

That was good.

Toko was not in a hurry. She discarded her shoes, cleaned her glasses that had been covered in dirt; her backpack was delicately placed next to Komaru’s, and from there she retracted her diary and a pen she had found while wandering around Towa City.

She sat down on the floor, legs crossed, and began to write. Viciously.

Toko allowed herself to hate, hate and hate Byakuya Togami, his sick desire to control her and have her always following his orders like a lifeless killing robot.

And Toko allowed herself to truly hate someone that wasn’t Toko Fukawa.

\-----------

When Toko woke up, she was no longer on the floor; she was not even in the same room she remembered being while writing in her journal. She was sitting in a kotatsu, with her face planted on the wooden surface of the table. Toko looked around, in a daze, and needed a few seconds to recognize Komaru sitting across from her. Komaru was smiling, and her reddened face still sported leftover tears from what was undoubtedly the crying resulted from a very sensitive conversation.

God damned Syo always had the worst timing.

Toko banged her forehead against the table. “God damned Syo.”

Komaru looked curious. “They didn’t do anything wrong, I promise! We just talked.”

Toko looked up, unsure. She did not trust Syo to “just talk” about things without making them infinite times worse. “About what?”

“About… what happened.”

Toko groaned, banging her forehead again. Komaru moved to her side, now resting her hand on Toko’s shoulder. “Toko, please”, she said, clearly trying to keep her tone level and the worried look mild. “Seriously. They were trying to help.”

“Syo never tries to help. They just ruin everything, I can’t… they don’t let me have… one thing…”, Toko’s face was still smashed against the table.

Komaru overplayed her giggle. “You sound funny talking like that. Very anime.”

Toko groaned again.

This time, Komaru just stopped. Her hand on Toko’s hand became more reassuring as it grew in confidence. “I was very worried when you didn’t stop writing for two hours. When you finally stopped, I wanted to make sure everything was ok, and… and Syo came out. And we talked.”

Toko did not risk moving.

“Syo took a look at your journal, and figured what was going on. I promise I didn’t look! I swear!” Komaru quickly added. “I wouldn’t break into your privacy like that!”

“I know, I know,” Toko assured her, sighing and finally looking Komaru in the eyes; she just looked… tired. She couldn’t find any trace of disappointment there. Remembering that expression from the previous day still gave her nausea, though.

“Well…”, Komaru continued. “Syo told me you were sorry. That you didn’t mean what you said, and, hm, quoting them…”, Komaru, looked away, a little embarrassed, “‘that girl couldn’t hurt a fly even if she wanted to’, they said.”

So much for not looking weak. Maybe that was the moment to be strong.

“I… I really am sorry.”, Toko risked. She gasped for air. “I should not have said that. Especially when I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have… lied.”

Komaru did not hesitate, closing up the distance between them and enclosing Toko in an embrace so tight her bones could feel it. “I’m the one who should be apologising, Toko, I… I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have doubted you when what you said to Byakuya sounded so forced in the first place. I shouldn’t…”, Komaru sobbed, and great, she was crying again. “I’m so sorry, Toko. For everything.”

Toko couldn’t breath. She could not feel her upper body, or her downer body, or any part of her body at all. Toko was no stranger to Komaru’s impromptu hugging sessions and emotional outbursts that usually ended up in physical contact, but it never failed to surprise her how Komaru would never hesitate to touch her, to be close to her, to… to not hate her. Komaru smelled like concrete, broken glass, and detritus from a collapsing city, and Toko tentatively enlaced Komaru’s torso with her own arms, closing her eyes and allowing herself to believe that this moment was real. She allowed herself to believe that she may commit mistakes, but there was a possibility that there was more to her than her mistakes, and that people could see right through them, see something that she couldn’t see quite yet, but that she knew was something good.

Toko Fukawa felt loved. And, even more than that.

Toko Fukawa felt lovable.

\-----------

Toko had never given Syo and Komaru’s relationship a second thought before that conversation. In her mind, it was still a recent development to understand Syo as an individual who may or may not seek people to interact and bond with, and even newer was the concept of it happening amicably. Syo was tridimensional, of course, but who could tell they would manage to reach the level of humanity necessary to be actually… interesting?

“Syo is very funny, you know?” Komaru said once, conversationally. “They can be pretty mean with their jokes, and they like to be scary sometimes… but everybody has a spicier side, right? It’s just their thing. Oh!” Komaru smiled a little. “And they laugh when I make references to my manga! Do you believe they call me ‘little lamb’? Big brother doesn’t like it, but I think it’s really cute!”

“Well, I don’t!” Toko mumbled, chewing down her lip; how dare Syo be more socially invested than her? They had equal rights! And sliding right into that friend group without even reporting it in the journal? What’s up with that?! “Who do they think they are?! They can’t just… go around being all social!”

Komaru blinked, taking a bite off a cereal bar before giggling. “What, are you jealous? People aren’t all that into them, you know? It’s not like Syo’s the most popular person around!”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s the whole principle of our thing!”, Toko motioned. “They can’t be all buddy-buddy with you and not even inform me of your little budding friendship!”

“Oh, so the problem is that they are trying to get closer to me?” Komaru held her hands close to her heart, gasping in mocking emotion. “Are you afraid Syo is going to snatch me away from you, Toko? That’s so romantic! I didn’t know you cared so much!”

Toko felt her cheeks flush deep red despite herself. Her heart skipped a beat. “N-no! S-s-stop fooling yourself! I just hate when Syo does stuff without telling me, and that’s all!” 

Komaru giggled again, walking now closer to her, and intertwined one of her arms with Toko’s; Toko did not try to stop her once. 

“You’re unbelievable”, insisted Toko, letting herself be held by Komaru.

“I know,” Komaru answered, happily. “But don’t worry. I still love you the most. Syo is not my type.”

Toko didn’t fight the smile that crept into her face. She couldn’t wait to tell Syo how Komaru liked her the best.

And Toko was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice Komaru was flushing as well.

\-----------

Toko and Syo had a talk through their jornal. Unsurprisingly, it took them almost three weeks to finally change the subject.

“Komaru will not stop hugging me every time we win in battle. It’s weird.”

“Ooooh, juicy! Do you think it means more than innocent friendship, Gloomy? She DOES have that spark in her eyes whenever she talks about you! And she aaaaalways knows when I’m pretending to be you!”

“Do her eyes really sparkle like that?”

“Oh GOD, you’re so far gone for her.”

“You’re just trying to embarrass me, stop it.”

“Did I hit a nerve? Should I start going all for it and make out with my cute little lamb, munch down on her soft, velvety lips until she is just begging for more?”

“Oh, GOD. Please don’t. You better don’t touch her.”

“You’re so easily set off, Gloomy! It’s not even that fun anymore. I wouldn’t touch your precious ‘best friend’. You keep telling yourself that’s what it is, and I keep just waiting for the perfect moment to play around with Byakuya-sama.”

“We don’t like Togami anymore. I told you so.”

“That’s YOUR problem, Gloomy! I still like Byakuya-sama, I had no starry-eyed expectations for him to be a decent human being. Now… about Komaru…”

“Won’t you just DROP IT, Syo?”

“Let you off the hook? No way! Are you ever going to make a move?”

“There’s no need to do something that would ruin everything. I just want to keep my best friend.”

“And this fool still believes Komaru doesn’t feel the same way about you! You kids are ridiculous, that’s why I don’t deal with teen drama anymore. And neither should you! Almost twenty one years old, and still circling around this girl waiting for something to happen! What are you, fifteen? Twelve?”

“I’m no prince, Syo.”

“Remind me again why does it matter, Gloomy Goo?”

“I’m… I don’t deserve it. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“The arrogance! After all this time being best friends and indirectly flirting through the most disgusting lovey-dovey interactions!”

“Don’t!”

“Don’t try being cute, Toko. You know better than anyone else that it’s up to Komaru to decide whether or not she should give you a chance.”

\-----------

And then, there was hope. 

There was hope for a new world. A world post Tragedy, a world filled up to the brim with tired smiles anxiously waiting for a tomorrow capable of fulfilling long overdue promises, a world where hope would be more than despair waiting to take over. This was the world that most of the students of Hope’s Peak Academy 78th class had been envisioning for so long, and now somehow they convinced even the most cynical of the survivals that the future was not only bright but also closer than everyone could believe. 

The Future Foundation could start building up the future they planned for so long.

Toko was on the front line of the rebuilding team, as expected; this time, not because someone told her so, mind you - after being on the battleground for so long, it just felt natural to be handling the manual work as well. She found some enjoyment in taking part in a group activity, and the collective efforts put into doing the smallest thing somehow felt equally (if not even more) satisfying that getting validation from a single individual. Toko still seeked moments of solitude, but no longer they seemed to be her only option; little by little, she quietly made her way into an inner circle of actual friends, and thanks to Komaru, she did not feel like fleeing every given chance.

Speaking of Komaru.

“I think this apartment building will look AMAZING when we’re done,” she commented, cleaning sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “My parents are going to LOSE it when they see how good we are getting at painting walls.”

“So you should probably start getting better at it, then,” Toko said, with no real bite; she pointed an old brush to a wall segment still clearly scorched. “You forgot to do that corner, Omaru.”

“I was going to do it later!”, she retorted. “I got distracted.”

Toko snickered. “Airhead.”

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

Komaru groaned, and went for a paint can. “Hey, when we’re done, big brother asked us to help out with the plants. We’re doing a garden!”

Toko tried tying up her hair into a ponytail; it was way too long for this kind of activity. “Is it going to be in any way useful for a new society?”

“Well, of course! We need trees to be happy! And healthy! Also, who wouldn’t feel better living among pretty flowers?”, Komaru added, a little more shyly, “and not everyone gets to be close to you like I do. I lucked out.”

Toko stopped painting for a full second. Those kind compliments weren’t completely new to Toko, but she still found it a little bit hard to fully process nice words directed to her. She was getting better, though. But they shouldn’t come out of nowhere, when they were working with things that paint, especially when they were both prone to making messes! What if it made Toko so embarrassed that she splashed white paint all over herself? Couldn’t Komaru just wait for a better, more proper moment to be annoyingly cute…

When Toko turned her whole body to face Komaru, she was holding Toko’s backpack. Komaru was quick to change the subject.

“Hey, you brought in your journal, right?” she looked nervous. “You should update it! So you and Syo know what you are supposed to be doing, right? For all of us? It can be really confusing, with all these chores!”

“O-ok,” Toko accepted the backpack from Komaru’s hand suspiciously. She could feel her heart beating fast and anxious, waiting for something - what it was, she couldn’t tell. Komaru looked at her with her round, big eyes and waited for a moment before walking a few steps backwards. She forced out a cough.

“Hey, just remembered! I… I have to go?” it sounded like a question.

“I-I! I don’t know?” Toko didn’t know how she was supposed to react. What was going on? What was Komaru doing? “How am I supposed to know!?”

Komaru laughed nervously, loud. “I think I heard big brother calling out for me! I better see what it is!”

Komaru has always been a terrible liar. Cursed with honesty.

“W-wait, Omaru, what are you…”

But Komaru had fled.

Toko stood there dumbstruck for something between minutes and ages. She could not believe her hair wasn’t longer by the time she finally moved, sitting down on the powder-covered floor of an apartment still to be finished. Opening up her backpack, Toko did not find anything out of the ordinary… until a lilac paper sheet slipped out of her diary.

She frowned. She did recognise the handwriting, but… why…

“Hey, Toko!”, Toko could feel the excitement Komaru must had been feeling as she wrote; “Komaru here! But, uhm, if things work out the way I hope they do, you already know it, right?” - had she had the AUDACITY to MANUALLY DRAW emojis in between sentences? what was that? - “Anyway, just so to make things clear! I did not look! Your personal secrets are safe. I promised I would never, and I promise you double-time I will keep it!”

Toko knew even before reading the message that she would never break into her diary. She wondered which one of them was the stupidest for blindly trusting the other. 

“I’m rambling, I’m sorry!”, an embarrassed face. “It took me ages to find purple-colored paper to send you and yet I keep wasting space on stupid stuff!”, another emoji; this one was crying. “So! Haha… now that I’m writing it down, I don’t know what to say. Should I have planned out? I think I should have. You probably plan things out before writing them down on paper. My bad!” another terrible emoji; Toko prayed for a little bit of patience. She sighed before returning to the note.

“Anyway. Uhm. This is extremely childish, I know. And that’s a thing I should have left behind in my highschool years. I’m almost twenty now, blah blah blah. But… I did not have a highschool crush. Because, you know, I didn’t have a highschool life. Apocalypse and all. Oh! Sorry, I’m making everything about me! What a jerk!”, the last emoji had an angry face; Toko couldn’t relate less with that emotion. 

“What I am trying to say is… I may… like you. Like, like you. In the disgusting, shoujo manga way. The ones with flowery backgrounds and sappy promises. I didn’t know how to tell you this, but I… I just wanted to. It felt just right, and I didn’t want to keep this to myself when I trust you enough to know. With zero expectations! Ok, with a little more than zero expectations. Tell me what you think? Make fun of me? Forget it ever happened? Tell me to grow up and not to talk to you ever again? Please, anything but the last one! I still want you to be my writing partner someday!” 

Toko’s hands were trembling. She remembered she had to breath a few seconds after it became very necessary.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to finish this up! Should I just… draw a heart? Or…?”

Komaru apparently opted for a little boat instead. She did read Toko’s first book, after all.

It looked terrible, and Toko couldn’t have loved it more.

“You’re great, Toko. Please don’t sail away from me. Let’s go on even more adventures together.”

\-----------

“What do I do?”

Syo would not come out soon enough. 

But Toko just knew what she wanted to do.

\-----------

Toko Fukawa was not one to resort to what she believed was the pedantism of some love poets, but she did understand now why they bothered filling up space with as many adjectives and as much flowery as possible. There were never words strong enough to convey such an important message, and time after time she found herself crumpling and throwing away overused sheets of her newest journal. She spent hours and hours trying to figure out how to write down exactly what she was feeling, what she would have liked to receive as an answer.

And then it hit her. She was not the receiver.

\-----------

Komaru Naegi had been avoiding Toko for a full day now, and already she felt like a terrible person. She shouldn’t just drop a bomb like that and disappear! But would it be worse to just stick around waiting for an answer when she knew Toko may need some time to digest her confession? It sucked to be in love! Only if they told her so when she was younger and stupider and began to take an interest in the introverted girl with pretty eyes and a charming mole.

After an afternoon helping out with some of the survivors who needed medical assistance, she ventured back in the bunker she usually occupied with Toko (platonically! platonic friends sometimes share a bed, don’t they?) and eventually some other survivors who felt comfortable sleeping in close proximity with Syo. Komaru hated that attitude. Remembering one of her times bickering with a guy who claimed to be “too cute to be near Syo”, she was so lost in her own irritation that she almost did not see the paper sheet carefully put on her pillow.

Komaru took a second to approach her bed. She was going to be rejected, she knew it. If she had been bravier, Komaru could have waited for the sakura tree to grow and bloom and architect a confession underneath the flowers; too bad she didn’t have the courage to be open in person nor to wait until the sapling she had planted a week prior became a full-fledged tree.

She took the page clearly ripped from Toko’s journal with eagerness, and Komaru was suddenly very aware of how accelerated was her own pulse.

The page was not what she expected. It did not feature lengthy - wordy - paragraphs of kanji, nor capable writing manuscripting a stream of consciousness. She knew Toko’s work, she did her very best to try and do so.

Instead, she was looking at a comic strip.

Calling it a comic strip would have been way too optimistic. It only featured a single frame, and Toko’s drawings of her and Komaru, bless her sweet heart, lacked a little bit of technique when it came to keeping the lines smooth; luckily, the ahoge and the glasses made them easily recognizable. Toko’s character had blushing cheeks, and on her hand what Komaru believed was supposed to be a red rose.

Above them, the Toko character’s speech bubble took on three times the space necessary.

“I love you too.”

\-----------

“Took you long enough, Toko.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO MUCH for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it! it may have its flaws but I promise this project was made with love and care  
> I may play around with epilogues and spinoffs in the future but for now that's what I've got! if you guys have any requests please hmu!!  
> seeya!

**Author's Note:**

> and!! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! and thank you very much if you made this far without clicking that sexy "x" that closes up the tab on your navigator  
> I intend to post the second part (in which Komaru makes an appearance, yay!) before Friday, but college hates my guts and I do my best to not hate it back  
> also, it might be apparent but English is not my first language, so I'm really sorry if any grammar/spelling mistakes ended up published; I don't have a beta reader and as much as I would like to say I did enough rereading of this trainwreck you never know, so if you spot anything glaring and embarrassing please don't keep it to yourself and let me know!!  
> seeya!


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